Twist of Fate Change of Heart
by OutOfDate
Summary: The world is turned upside down for two assassins as the ties that bound them are broken, but the red string of fate draws them together once more. [MireilleChloe Femslash Read Author Notes]
1. Twist of Fate

**--WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS--**

**Author's Notes**: Haha, yes, you read correctly. Mireille/Chloe. Personally, I'm a Kirika/Chloe fan myself, and an avid Mireille hater. But I was watching episode 25 again, such a great episode, Chloe gets so emotional. -- The she bites it, but ya know. LOL Anyways, I thought, "What if Chloe'd succeeded after Chloe'd flipped out on Kirika?" And thus, I got the inspiration for this fic. It will be short, probably three or four chapters, so it shouldn't take up too much time. Cause I really need to finish Lost But Not Forgotten. Eheheh . . . yeah.

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**Twist of Fate - Change of Heart  
****Chapter One – Twist of Fate**

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Chloe panted, painfully aware of the sweat dripping off her nose and chin as she bent her head down, eyeing her slain prey in a state of . . . disbelief? Her hands were slick as they grasped the smooth hilt of her knife, the edges of her hands feeling the rough fabric adorning the now lifeless body of her fallen victim. She sighed, suddenly, her entire body falling limply onto the body beneath her as she lost her grasp on reality.

Mireille swallowed hard as she stared at the two forms ten meters in front of where she lay, fallen by a bullet clipping her leg. After a long while spent merely taking in the morbid scene Mireille limped tentatively toward the pair of flaccid bodies. She fell to her knees beside the two and pushed the unconscious body of Chloe off of the obviously dead girl, a silver shard of metal still protruding from her heart.

Mireille's expression was one of mindless disbelief as she pulled her fallen comrade into her arms. She grimaced at the unpleasant feeling of Kirika's now cooling skin against her own and thought numbly to herself as she brushed the Japanese girl's bangs from her face; _I came here to kill you. And now you're dead, Kirika, _she hugged the girl tighter, _I can't believe it. I just don't believe it._

As the sun began to sink below the distant horizon its golden rays touched on the statuesque trio, a tear glinting as it fell from Mireille's face. Hours had passed as the Corsican had held her lifeless friend in her arms, rocking the girl gently as she mulled over everything and nothing. What had just happened? Chloe had blown a gasket, that's what'd happened. She'd turned so viciously on Kirika it was frightening. Now Kirika was dead. Chloe was sprawled out on the ground beside them, breathing slowly, obviously lethargic. Mireille eyed the youngest girl carefully. It had become apparent she felt strongly for Kirika; perhaps even loved her, from the sound of her ravings. And now Chloe had killed her.

Mireille's gaze focused on the sleeping girl's face, peaceful, innocent, and child-like. The Corsican frowned visibly, _and when she wakes up . . . what will her face say then?_

Torn from her thoughts by the rumble of a distant motor she looked toward the setting sun. It was not long before a small group of nameless men appeared from amidst the ruins nearby, led by a small group of men who were obviously prominent Soldats. Mireille grimaced, knowing she had no hope of defending against them in her wounded state.

The men advanced tentatively towards the three motionless figures. Mireille dropped her gun to her side, signaling she was not looking for a fight. She doubted she could even pull the trigger; the events that had transpired had completely drained her, not to mention her head was light from blood loss via the wound in her leg. As the men approached, she followed Chloe into unconsciousness.

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**Author's Note:** Woo! First chapter high! LOL Review! On another note, , I love the fact I can change the color of my divider bars, but I'll gladly give that up for the ability to change text size. 


	2. Change of Heart

**Author's Notes:** Wow! I think that's the fastest I've ever received reviews. Go me! And go you for reviewing! Seeing as how the fic's been well-received by the few avid Noir fic readers, I'll continue quickly.

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**Twist of Fate – Change of Heart  
**Chapter Two – Change of Heart

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Mireille gazed out the window in the wall opposite her, the moonlight that crept through the glass panes shedding a small square of light on the bed in which she lay. She had awaken what she guessed was nearing an hour ago to find herself tucked comfortably into a small bed in a very dark room. She wasn't sure where she was or how she'd gotten there, but as it occurred to her that she may need to plan an escape the events that had transpired at the Manor overtook her thoughts.

Kirika was dead, that much was true. Chloe was alive, to the extent of her knowledge, though where she did not know. So, where did that leave Mireille? Her family's killer, not to mention her best friend, was dead. Her stint as a member of Noir was over. Or was it?

The Soldats were not exactly a group to be trifled with, as Mireille well knew. Althena would still no doubt be bent on employing her remaining, what had she called them? Saplings? She would no doubt wish to employ her remaining saplings as her pawns. Mireille found her thoughts drifting to Chloe. Was she awake? Was she alive? Was she still angry at Kirika? Was she still bent on becoming Noir? With Mireille?

As the wind outside the window died down slowly Mireille's ears were able to pick out the faint sound of slow and steady breathing from somewhere within the dark room. Listening intently to the sleeping Chloe's breathing Mireille concentrated on regaining her drained stamina. Her inquiring hand found her leg wound under the covers, or found the dressing on the wound, rather. She twitched her leg slightly; and finding no pain as a result she sat up, placing her feet on the cold stone floor, facing the sound of Chloe's soft breathing.

Pushing herself up, she tenderly applied weight to her injured limb. Finding the gentle throb bearable she limped slowly in what she assumed was Chloe's direction. As her shins came in contact with the base of a bed she fumbled around in the darkness, finding Chloe's shoulder and shaking her lightly.

Chloe's voice was groggy and distant, so quiet Mireille was not sure if she had imagined the girl's subdued, "Kirika?"

Mireille cringed at the innocent girl's soft inquiry, taking her breath in sharply. Chloe was asking for Kirika? Did she not know what she had done? Mireille was at a loss for words. What should she say? How would Chloe react?

Chloe's hand reached up to where Mireille was grasping her shoulder, taking Mireille's hand softly in her own. Mireille merely gaped, not knowing what to say. It only took a moment for Chloe's grip to tighten into a vice-like hold around Mireille's slender fingers. The Corsican winced, whimpering a bit but holding her tongue, not knowing who else may be around in this strange dark room.

Chloe's voice was quiet, but like stone, "Who's there," she squeezed Mireille's fingers tighter, so tight the assassin feared they might splinter, "What have you done with Kirika?"

Mireille cringed, groaning a bit as she spoke quietly, "Chloe . . ."

Recognizing the Corsican's voice Chloe's grip loosened, but did not leave Mireille's fingers. She fumbled around in the darkness looking for a weapon of some sort, but finding none, she tugged Mireille's hand, pulling the Corsican closer. Quietly, she whispered to the silent assassin, her menacing tone apparent, "Where are we? Where is Kirika?"

Mireille swallowed hard and whispered back, "I don't know where we are. Kirika is . . . Kirika's—"

"Dead?" Chloe choked out her interruption.

"Yes," Mireille responded, bracing herself for the attack she knew would come. Chloe would no doubt blame Mireille somehow for what had happened. Mireille was wounded but she could still fight back, which she planned to do.

Anticipating an attack, Mireille was a bit surprised when Chloe merely released her hand from her grip and she heard her sigh quietly. "I thought . . . I thought it was just a nightmare," Chloe whimpered more to herself than to Mireille.

Mireille swallowed hard, tentatively sitting on the side of the bed next to the young girl and feeling for her hand, taking it in her own softly, "Chloe . . ."

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**Author Notes:** Kay, so there will be at least four chapters, I've decided. Sorry this took me so long to write. If you can believe it I had everything up until 'Chloe whimpered more to herself than to Mireille' typed out the day after I posted the first chapter, just haven't got around to writing those last two sentences! Hehe, sorry bout that. Umm . . . other than that, check out my website, it's the roxxorz and has undergone major changes, and I'm finally writing more content for my Noir fansite, The Sin Within the Sin. It's getting there. Heh, but as you can see I'm lazy. E-mail me anytime, and I'll try and update soon. Review! 


	3. Twist of Fate

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the slow update! Been looking for a job.

**Spritedust**: Yes, she's done something to make me hate her. You see, I care about shows and characters more than I ever should. It's rather eerie, to be truthful. For instance, I would choose Chloe over, say, my mother. I became literally infatuated with Chloe from the very moment I laid eyes on her. Of course, Chloe was then killed. Though it was Kirika who held the . . . fork, everything would have gone simply if Mireille hadn't arrived at that moment. Therefore I believe that the brunt of the responsibility for Chloe's death lies on Mireille. That is why I hate her. And now y'all're freaked out. Hahaha.

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**Twist of Fate – Change of Heart**  
Chapter Three – Twist of Fate

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"This . . . this is all your fault!" Chloe lashed out in the darkness, her tightly clenched fist grazing Mireille's face who jumped up quickly, falling backwards on her injured leg and knocking over what she assumed to be a lamp with a loud crash.

Mireille fought her way to her feet in the darkness as Chloe leapt from her bed, flailing for the Corsican blindly, "If you hadn't've come—You ruined everything! I'll kill you!"

Before the younger assassin could find the Corsican's neck for strangling a door nearby burst open and the small room was flooded with light, causing both assassins to shrink back a bit, squinting towards the light, their bodies tensed for a fight.

"Now, now, enough of that," came the strangely calming voice from the doorway.

A candle moved to light a lantern. As her eyes adjusted to the light Chloe was elated to see that Althena was their attendant, "Althena!"

Smiling softly at her protégé Althena motioned for both of the assassins to be seated on their designated beds. Chloe quickly obliged while Mireille stood tensely staring at this strange woman.

"You have been asleep for several hours," she explained. After a short pause she turned her eyes seriously towards the women, "It is on this day that le grand retour has taken place. Noir's black hands shall once again do the bidding of the Soldats, as has been written."

"But, Althena," Chloe reminded, "Kirika's . . . she's dead."

"I know," the woman responded, "And though the outcome was not the expected one, it is still satisfactory. The weakest of the saplings has been uprooted and it is the remaining two who shall remain."

Chloe's eyes grew wide, "Weakest! But you said Kirika and I, you said we would—"

"Silence, Chloe," she interrupted, "You cannot change fate. Those destined to become Noir have survived. You and the Daughter of Corsica will serve as Noir, as is your destiny."

Chloe narrowed her eyes, then thought better of protesting, lest she be disciplined. Mireille, however, did not think twice, "I will not serve the Soldats, the ones who killed my family, and you're crazy to think otherwise."

"But it is your destiny," Althena rose, "It is for betraying this destiny that your parents died. I hope that you do not wish to follow in their footsteps. You show such . . . promise."

"What are you talking about?" Mireille glowered.

"Your parents refused to serve the Soldats, as you do now, and even their tremendous influence and legions of guards did not save them. What causes you to believe you can stand against them any better?" Althena sat down once again, "The Soldats are very powerful, but obviously quite corrupt. The Bouquets were outstanding assets to the organization. Surely their lives could have been spared with a bit of negotiation," Althena smiled, knowing that little persuasion and only a few small lies would be needed in this case, "It is those that ordered your parents killed, those corrupt officials, that I wish to silence. With your help, of course. You seek revenge, do you not?"

Mireille eyed the woman suspiciously.

"Then take your revenge in the name of Noir. Fulfill your destiny, Mireille Bouquet."

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**Author Notes:** Well, I belted that out at 1 AM. As such I believe Althena may have come off a bit OOC. Perhaps I will revise at a later date. Either way, I'm off to bed. Review with any suggestions on getting Althena more in character! 


	4. Change of Heart

**Author Notes:** Well, I've come down with a cold all of a sudden which means it's damned hard for me to get to sleep. As a result, I can't sleep well. Good for you guys, though, cause that means I'll update instead of sleeping. Heheheh.

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**Twist of Fate – Change of Heart**  
Chapter Four – Change of Heart

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The sun had set over an hour ago and as the chill of night laid in and a light fog crept towards them two women sat motionless, lying in wait for their prey. They sat quite silent, not for fear of discovery, but because they had become accustomed to it. Throughout their newfound partnership barely a sentence had passed between the two, each holding within their hearts a loathing for the other beyond description. A loathing for what the other had done the life the other had taken, the title the other had stolen, the friend the other had slain.

As the sound of footsteps reached their ears they tensed in unison, readying for their mark. This wise old Soldats official was not so wise after all, choosing to walk alone when he knew that Noir was after him. Perhaps he wished to die? Thought he could fight them off alone?

As he came within striking range the blonde assassin lifted her weapon, taking aim, while her companion watched her menacingly, as she always did. A flash from the gun and the shot burst out, sending a hollow echo about them. However, taking the place of the cry of pain and the thud of bullet finding flesh was the ping and whir of a ricochet and the cocking of a second gun. Then a third. Then a fourth.

As swiftly and silently as the fog had moved in just before, a small army of men emerged from the mist, aim already taken towards the two that would slay their leader.

Quick as she could the younger of the two leapt towards the thicket alongside the path on which she had been waiting, reflexively grabbing her partner as bullets ripped apart the air where the Corsican had stood moments ago. Knowing the gunmen would be quick to follow the women took off through the underbrush, twisting their way through the trees, eager to leave this botched job in their wake.

Gasping for breath it was no less than three kilometers away that the younger of the two darted to the side and fell to her knees in a dry river bed, hoping the sand bank might hide her from her pursuers. She tried to calm her breathing, listening to the shots being fired behind and the men crashing through the forest in hunt. It was not until several moments had passed and her breathing had returned to normal that she realized that her hand was still clenched tightly around her partner's wrist, having dragged her into the ditch behind. As her eyes traveled up the Corsican's arm and met with the other woman's wide eyes a great fury seemed to somehow take control of all rational thought.

"What were you THINKING?" she half-shouted, half-whispered, shoving the blonde harshly, "If you couldn't make the shot why did you shoot?"

The outburst did not go unheeded by the gunmen as shouts and shots rang out in tandem, ripping through the air towards the riverbed. The pair shot once again away from the small army, sprinting through the trees at breakneck speed in an effort to once again lose their assailants.

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"At least I didn't shout when there were twenty men with guns pointed in our direction," Mireille pointed out as the pair, having lost their pursuers, walked along a small dirt road through Eastern Europe, shrouded in the cold darkness of the early hours of morning.

"That wouldn't have happened if you hadn't missed the shot," Chloe reminded pointedly. After a few more moments of walking in silence she said, more to herself than to Mireille, "Guns . . . how impersonal, dirty, and impractical."

"Humph, you didn't say that when Kirika used a gun," Mireille retorted, mentioning the dead girl for the first time since the night of her death.

Sighing, a content smile spread across Chloe's lips as she reached back in her memories to the thoughts of the girl who should be walking beside her now, "Kirika was different. She . . . could make anything the perfect weapon. To kill the way she could . . . she was perfect."

Mireille turned her head and was surprised to see a smile where she had expected to see tears. She realized it was only down her face that the tears fell, and she brushed them away with her wrist. As she did so Chloe's eyes caught hers and the girl's smile faded, "What do you have to cry for?" Turning her face away scornfully, "You didn't even know her."

Genuinely offended Mireille stopped walking, grabbing Chloe by the arm and jerking her around to face her. Chloe's face was etched with defiance, but now Mireille realized that tears were beginning to form in the other girl's eyes as well. It was not more than a minute that the despair that had filled Chloe since the passing of her love became too much to bare and her sorrow came gushing out in a river of tears and a torrent of sobs uncharacteristically audible from the girl.

Falling to her knees Chloe clenched her fists and bared her teeth, choking out through the sobs, "You could never know her like I knew her. She was me and I was her and we were one and we were to be Noir but now she's dead and it's all . . . it's all . . . _it's all my fault_!"

This outburst was met by a more violent fit of sobbing as Chloe doubled over, trying to hide her face from the Corsican's eyes. "Chloe," Mireille said, her voice shocked, sad, and with an unexpected hint of tenderness. She knelt down beside a woman who was no longer a ruthless assassin but had been reduced to a sobbing child in a matter of minutes. What was she to say? Console the girl; tell her it wasn't her fault, when both knew it was? At a loss for what to do Mireille succumbed to her instincts, sitting at the side of the dirt road and pulling the sobbing girl into a rather awkward embrace.

After several minutes of stifling her crying and wiping away her tears Chloe was surprised to find that her current location to be in the arms of her . . . rival? . . . partner? . . . nemesis? . . . friend? As several moments passed and an awkward silence filled the air between them the duo stared at one another, not sure how exactly this had come to pass.

"Chloe," Mireille began softly, "What's done is done. She's dead. You want her back just as much as I do, but we can't. We can't bring her back and there's—" Mireille had to wipe away some of her own tears now, "—there's nothing we can do to change the past. The past is the past and should be left that way. We won't forget her . . . but to dwell on things we can't change is a waste." Mireille smiled a bit, "I guess I just realized that myself. I'd been out for revenge because of my family . . . but now that their killer is dead, nothing's changed and they're still dead. We just need to move on, right, Chloe?"

Mireille stood up, brushing the dirt off of her clothes and smoothing out her shirt. She turned to Chloe who was still sitting on the ground, her eyes shiny in the moonlight as the orb began to sink below the treetops and the first rays of dawn began appearing over the far horizon. Reaching out her hand to help the girl up she smiled, "Shall we go then, Chloe?"

Chloe took her hand and stood. They began walking once again towards the rising sun. Towards the future, and away from their pasts.

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**Author's Notes:** The End! Heh, your thoughts? Didn't work in as much shoujo-ai as I'd planned, and I apologize to those who are disappointed by that. The end I tried to wrap up by getting rid of the whole 'pilgrimage to the past' idea but I'm not sure how that really worked out. Either way, the end, please review.

**FYI:** Madlax! It's first dubbed DVD is coming out on the twelfth and y'all should get it.


	5. Red String of Fate The Ties that Bind

**Twist of Fate – Change of Heart**  
Epilogue – Red String of Fate - The Ties that Bind

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Chloe sat idly on the edge of the large billiard table which dominated Mireille Bouquet's flat. In the time she'd stayed here with the Corsican she'd not yet grown accustomed to the abundance of free time she'd been faced with. When she'd lived at the Manor her time had always been spent efficiently, be it training, helping Althena in the vineyard, or executing tasks set for her by the Soldats.

Now, as she sat cross-legged on the table she found herself idly rolling the balls into the pockets. Though she'd lived here with Mireille for an excruciatingly uncomfortable four months she'd not yet become used to the concept of boredom. She scratched her leg, annoyed. Her new partner had stressed that she outfit herself in attire more fitting of city life. Thus she'd temporarily shed her usual black suit and cloak for a more urban pair of jeans and a myriad of sweatshirts bearing the names of bands and movies Chloe'd never seen nor heard of.

_clack_ The red three ball collided with the blue two, sending the latter rolling towards the side of the green felt arena. Her eyes following it, Chloe's gaze fell upon the potted plant beside the window. She didn't know what it was exactly about this plant, but she knew it had some tie to Kirika, as on the rare and uncomfortable occasion that her name was brought up in the apartment Mireille's sight would always find the plant. _It's dying_, Chloe remarked, her eyes scoping out the slightly browned edges of the leaves that were beginning to curl under a bit. She hopped off the billiard table, walking into the small kitchen.

Mireille smiled. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the temperature was just right, and the city was as lively as ever. She moved steadily along the streets of Paris, her moped's slight buzz over-powered by the buzz of shoppers and street vendors.

Her smile faded slightly as she passed by a small café where she and Kirika had sat together not so long ago. _Kirika_, Mireille's smile finally disappeared as the memory of what she'd lost came drifting back to her like a noxious fog. It'd been over three months now since she'd seen her friend's face. Since she'd seen her friend die. _But that can't be changed, _Mireille reminded herself sullenly, shaking the bitterness from her head. _Have I learned nothing, _she smiled wryly to herself, _I've seen that vengeance brings nothing good, and to hate Chloe for what she did . . . no good could come of that either._

Her smile returned as her thoughts returned once again to the gorgeous day, choosing not to dwell on such serious issues which would really lead nowhere good. She'd just reached her building and grabbed the paper bag of groceries off of the back of her moped. She checked the mail, finding nothing, and pushed her moped onto the lift. She pushed the bike off the lift and opened the door to her flat, dragging the bike and bag of groceries through the door, "Hey, I'm ho—"

She stopped short. Chloe, though she no doubt heard the Corsican enter, hadn't abandoned what she'd been doing. Still standing by the window, she finished emptying the cup of water into the soil around the plant. Without looking up, Chloe remarked, "Your plant . . . it was dying." She knocked the glass against the side of the pot to expel the last few drops of water and turned to return the cup to the kitchen, stopping when she realized something seemed to be wrong, as Mireille hadn't moved from the door.

"It's nothing," Mireille mumbled, pushing her bike the rest of the way in and setting the groceries on the all-purpose pool table. She propped the moped against the wall below the window and took the bread and other sundries from the bag. Chloe returned the cup she'd been using to the kitchen and regained her seat cross-legged on the billiard table while Mireille put away the groceries.

_It's just a stupid plant, _Mireille told herself, biting her lip. She sighed, her shoulders slumping, _Yeah . . . it's just a plant. Not Kirika's plant. Just a plant. And it_ did_ need watering. I guess I should just be glad Chloe's actually taking initiative around here. She's done nothing but sit on that table and sulk since she got here. It's not like she's taking Kirika's place or anything, _she craned her neck to peer around the wall and glance at the object of her thoughts, _Great, she's back on my table again._

Mireille leaned against the stove, mulling over her situation. In the past three months she'd been able to attain a relatively friendly relationship with Chloe. They'd maintain a comfortable silence for the most part, and Mireille would sneak in bits of idle conversation and Chloe would humor her with short, but not rude responses. The first several nights had been very rocky, no doubt. Chloe'd obviously been having some difficulty adjusting to life away from the Manor. Seeking to leave behind the shaded past they shared they'd left behind the Manor, and they'd left Althena behind along with it, which seemed to make a tremendous toll on Chloe. Many times Mireille was sure Chloe would just take off in the night, back to that senile woman in the huge old house. But something always seemed to keep her from returning. _She doesn't want to go back there, _Mireille reminded herself, _to that place that she killed . . . _The first night Chloe stood eerily still, staring out the window onto the street below in silence. Succumbing to the resulting exhaustion she'd posed the question the following day to Mireille. Where was she to sleep?

My, how awkward that first night had been, sharing that bed with Chloe as she'd shared it with Kirika. They slept on the extreme edges of the bed. There was an unspoken trust between them, yet they remained wary of the other while they half-slept. In time the sleeping arrangement became more natural until they'd fallen into the sync of daily routine. They'd get up; Mireille would shower first, then dress and go into town for shopping or catching up on the latest gossip in the underworld while Chloe would have her turn to shower and dress in the clothes Mireille had bought for her. Mireille would return in the late afternoon to find Chloe sitting lazily about the place, on the pool table most often, and the Corsican would then make them a meal. They'd eat, then retire once again to the bed they shared. It was a comfortable existence, Mireille had to admit. Nothing pressing to do. Though it was also a rather insolent life to lead. They'd take the occasional job to keep Mireille's bank balance from dropping into the negatives, but for the most part there wasn't really much to be done.

Mireille was called out of her thoughts by the _clack_ of ceramic balls smacking into each other. Putting on a slight smirk she poked her head out of the kitchen, "What do you want for dinner?"

_clack_

Mireille was used to the silence she received. Every night she would ask the younger girl what she wanted for dinner. But it seemed Chloe never really had a preference. As such Mireille set a pot of soup on the burner and moved to her computer to check her e-mail.

She sifted through the junk mail, checking the occasional job offer she came across. Nothing with a large enough price tag to warrant undertaking.

"Daughter of Corsica . . ."

Mireille looked up at Chloe. She'd pretty much grown used to the idea that Chloe might never actually call her by her name, but that the girl was initiating a conversation of her own accord was quite the event, "What is it?"

"I . . ." Chloe began slowly. Mireille realized just how hard Chloe seemed to be mulling over her words and shifted full attention to the girl, "I . . . don't know why I'm here."

Taken aback by the odd statement, Mireille raised an eyebrow, "What's that?"

"I . . . have no purpose," Chloe looked down at her hands resting on her denim-clad knees. Her vibrant colored hair concealed her face, but didn't do so well to conceal the single drop of water that fell onto the green felt of the pool table.

_She's crying?_ Mireille wasn't quite sure what to do. Before she could think of a way to comfort the crying girl Chloe continued on, explaining herself.

"When I was a child Althena told me I would be Noir. I would be mankind's salvation. It was my fate. But . . ." Chloe's hands clenched and another drop of water darkened the felt tabletop, "Now I'm not Noir. I . . . there's nothing left for me."

Mireille was at a loss. For all intensive purposes the girl was right. And admittedly Mireille was in the same boat. They'd lounge around the house, do enough work to get by, really without any purpose or direction. She swallowed hard and fiddled with the power cord of her computer, hoping to pull some sort of revelation out of thin air. After a moment all she could muster was the quiet, sullen response, "I know."

Chloe nodded silently, as she wasn't expecting a response anyways, pushing herself off of the pool table dejectedly, "Good night."

* * *

Chloe left the Corsican sitting at the computer as she hiked the few stairs to the bed she and Mireille shared. She looked out the window for several moments, mulling over her current situation. Not coming to any epiphanies she exhaled loudly, scratching the heavy cotton sleeves much too large for her. Mireille had assured her it was the closest she could come to her cloak while staying with the current fashions but she was not too fond of the clothes. She shucked the shirt off, throwing it onto the chair in the corner.

"Chloe . . ." Though she'd heard the Corsican enter the room and approach Mireille's warm hand on her shoulder made Chloe jump slightly, "Sorry for startling you," Mireille's hand didn't move and her other hand found Chloe's other shoulder.

"Daughter of Corsica?" Chloe's questioning, semi-suspicious whisper was barely audible as she felt herself being drawn backward into the older woman.

"Chloe," Mireille whispered in her ear quietly as she wrapped her arms around the girl, "I know . . . I know that you're scared. And lost. So am I. I don't . . ." she stifled a sob, pressing her face lightly into Chloe's hair, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. For so long I just wanted to kill . . . whoever it was that killed my family. But now . . . now what?

"Chloe, I don't know what I'm supposed to do, I just don't know. I just know that the last thing I want to do . . . is not know alone."

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**Author's Notes:** There you have it. (Finally.) I actually had most of it written ages ago. Haha, anyways, I'm not especially fond with how I let that off as I'd like to add a more final conclusion but right now my mind's kind of in the gutter and if I keep writing . . .this is going to go all lemony. Haha, anyways, I may rewrite soon, but until then, tah-dah. 


End file.
